


A Cinderella Story

by Rukia



Category: Fables - Willingham
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-22
Updated: 2010-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:06:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rukia/pseuds/Rukia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cinderella tells the story of what came after her "Happily Ever After."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cinderella Story

All men are scum, but _wolves_ have redeeming qualities.

I learned that fact centuries ago. That was before even I flew into this world on the last boat with my sleazy husband in tow.

Once upon a time, I was a simple girl with simple tastes which didn't match my terribly good looks. It all changed around my eighteenth birthday when I snuck out of my step-mom's house, masqueraded for a ball, and married a handsome prince.

Things were supposed to be perfect after that. Yet the honeymoon had barely ended before I realized how terribly wrong things were. Sure the sex was mind-blowing, but I soon began to suspect that the magical ball had been a get-rich-quick scheme of royal proportions. Marry the loveliest girl and get your hands on the loveliest dowry. My, what a disappointment it must have been for Charming – the sexiest belle of the ball turned out to be a pauper. By the time he found out, it was much too late. My heart weeps. Really.

Besides my growing suspicion that the chambermaids were getting to know him better than they should, there were bigger things brewing. By then, the Adversary was moving its armies toward our realm. Countless worlds were gone already and it looked like we were next on the Asshole's mile-long checklist.

I still believe we could have made our escape easily if not for my prince's rather stupid scheme to extort money off the fleeing populace. I'm sure Bluebeard pulled his own scheme off with more finesse than Charming ever could. In the end, as the troll army started to march over the hills to our castle, my ever-loyal prince vanished along with a few servants and the magic pumpkin carriage. He left a simple note behind for me: "If you make it out safely, don't forget to pack my silk shirts. I didn't have room for them in my luggage. Ta."

Of course I didn't forget the shirts. It would be a travesty to leave those expensive clothes with trolls. That night as the castle went up in a blaze of smoke and ash; I built a small campfire up in the mountains, under the stars. I remember how I lovingly took out one frilly shirt after another, shook them out and burned each one. The stinging scent of burnt silk still reminds of betrayal.

I remember how the clouds were heavy and dark the following morning. I didn't know what to do from there on, but the one thing I couldn't bring myself to do was cry about such silliness as a lost home. Life with my step-mother taught me one important thing: Tears don't clean the dishes, hon.

I set out that morning with dry eyes, trudging through the swamps in bare feet. No glass slippers for me. Not anymore. Now, if I had known I was heading straight for a troll encampment, I would have gone a different way. Hindsight is 20-20 and all that.

What followed had been absolute hell, true, but at least it was a straightforward sort of Hell. No innuendos from stuck-up royalty, no emotional breakdowns, no lies behind thin smiles... it was mostly just mindless, agonizing labor for the Asshole's army. I could handle that. I've always been a resilient girl, I'd like to think.

My life in the chain gang ended after a while. Can't tell if it had been days or weeks or months, so I'll just say it was a while. One night, my hero came for me with foam dripping down yellowed fangs and dark fur standing on end. Not the silk shirt type at all. He was an absolute monster; he was magnificent.

When he broke off my chains, he looked over the assembled prisoners and said, "Go east. Stick to the woods until you hit the hills, then go over them to reach the desert. If you don't stop to rest too often, there's a castle after about a two day walk through the desert."

He padded through the decimated troll camp, snuffling through the remains for any survivors that needed killing. No one else stayed behind... besides him and me. The other prisoners had already disappeared into the hills by the time he finally raised his head. He studied me with clear yellow eyes.

"Get going lady," he snarled. "Unless you'd care to join me for dinner."

"I, I..." I remember how my voice caught in my throat. That creature was the first to ever render me speechless. Even the prince never had such an effect on me. It was fear that held me – not something vague and dull like attraction, nor affection. The fear was overwhelming. Thrilling.

"What is it?" he asked. He shifted his gray body impatiently, eager to move on to his next kill.

The words left me as if I were not speaking them, as if the words were from someone with far greater confidence then I ever had back in those days. Sometimes, if I'm feeling a bit maudlin, I tend to think it was the spirit of who I am now who spoke through my old self. But I know that's bullshit, so let's just leave it as a mystery.

"If you ever make it out of here safely, if you ever need the help of a human girl," I told him, "Please seek me out. I am willing to serve you until my dying breath."

He approached me with wide, slow steps. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and moved over his fangs. It was a wolf's smile. "You're strange for a human girl," he said. "If you allow me to check and see whether you are a traitor, then I will take you over the hills myself. For you to pledge loyalty to a wolf puts your sanity into question, so I had better keep you out of trouble."

"Master Wolf..." I breathed.

A low growl rose from his throat and his muzzle crunched up fiercely. "Never," he warned me. "Never call me master, little girl."

And that's how I got a free express ticket out of hell. The trip over the hills only took a night and a day, so there's nothing special I can say about that. He left me at the Last Castle, with little more than a snort before he turned tail and went back west.

Apparently, I was in for a surprising reunion: my prince had been staying at the castle with all of the other refugees. He found me soon after I arrived. I soon learned that the pumpkin carriage was long gone and the surviving servants were quick disobey and leave for the new world on Bluebeard's ships. But a good portion of the luggage had survived the trip, including some of my most valuable jewelry and dresses. He claimed that he had taken those when he escaped to save them for me, but it was obvious they were meant for bartering. It didn't matter as long as I had something nice to wear, finally. When he asked, I told him I tragically "lost" his silk shirts.

We stayed at the castle for nearly a month before the last battle drove us out. Of course, the reason the prince wanted to stay until the last possible moment was so that he could scam departing refugees. I'd rather not say why I stayed with him. I wish I hadn't.

After that came the new world. I divorced and became a simple peasant again – well, a simple peasant with half of the prince's extortion earnings. I used the money to move to New Amsterdam, where Fabletown had recently been established. I set up shop for myself and kept a low profile. Time went by, relatively peaceful and prince-less.

With every year that passed, more Fables scattered across the world were making their way into Fabletown. Things were getting busy and there was talk of making a general amnesty agreement. It was a big event and everyone was excited about all that it entailed. Personally, I felt bitter about it. I led a pretty innocent life, so the amnesty mattered little to me. However, the fact that my prince even existed was a terrible crime. I hated the fact he would be forgiven for being an utter bastard. A truly fair world would include a castrated Prince.

Even so, I'm glad for the amnesty now... for my Boss' sake.

It was on the week leading up to the amnesty signing that a man walked into my humble shoe store. He was in desperate need of a shave and a good pair of clothes. His shoes... well, I could see _why_ he came to The Glass Slipper.

"Can I help you, good sir?"

The man looked up when I approached and smiled a crooked smile. "You've done well for yourself, girl," he said. I knew him by his sharp eyes.

"Master..." I placed a hand over my heart. "Master Wolf!"

"I told you, kid," he scowled. "Don't call me that."

"I'm sorry," I choked down the urge to say it again. Now that I could live self-sufficiently, I vowed to myself that I would be humbled by no man. But the wolf was certainly no man. He merely had the form of one. "I heard rumors a few years ago that you made it out alive."

"Things got real bad in the west. I left before the Last Castle got taken, actually," he said. "I found my own way out." He didn't look at me. He was strolling though my small shop. He paused and examined a pair of sturdy travel boots.

"Would you like some new shoes, sir?" I asked, though that seemed obvious. He snorted agreeably, but gave a disdainful look at the dainty black iron buckle shoes on display. He didn't seem to care for the latest in fashion, but of course his idea of style consisted of scuffed shoes and long, dung-colored overcoats, no matter what era.

He inhaled deeply once and scrunched up his nose as if the smell of shoe polish really didn't agree with him. "You work here alone," he said. It wasn't a question, simply a statement of fact.

"I'm not doing bad for myself," I said. "It's better than being left for dead in a chain gang, right?"

He turned to me with his brow quirked. Maybe he was surprised I had the guts to bring that up. "I remember you said something to me back then," he said. He sounded cautious.

"I said I'd give you my life," I met his eyes without fear or remorse. No, sir, no delicate flower of femininity here. I felt stronger than I had ever been. No stepmother to hassle me and no prince to abuse me – I didn't have to waste time on second-guessing my choices.

The wolf came up so close to me that I could see each prickly hair sticking out of his chin. He smelled of earth and animal fur and wild forests. My eyes met his and I was caught in a trance; unable to move away as that may show weakness. It was an instinctive knowledge that buzzed through my body: _If I am weak, I will be eaten, little one._

I guess it was the right reaction. "You'll do," said he.

"Pardon?"

"Come over to Branstock Tavern after sunset. There's someone I need you to meet."

"Alright," I said. I didn't ask why. I figured he wouldn't approve if I asked too many questions. I'd find out more if I waited, anyhow.

He seemed impressed by this as well. "You'll serve me, kid?" he asked.

"I'm all yours."

"Good. Then I'll let you in on a little secret," he leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I'm being made the sheriff of Fabletown."

I didn't know what to say to that. "Congratulations" didn't quite seem appropriate.

"I need a few people to help me keep things in check – both here and in other parts of the world wherever Fables live," he paused. "I've got two on the books already, but I need someone off the books, understand?"

"Not really," I said. "But I think I'll play this as I go."

He chuckled, "I'll see you at Branstock's. Kay needs to check you out before I make any promises for work." He walked past me on his way out. I was left staring at the wall.

"Mas..." I caught my tongue, but I heard him pause at the doorway. I turned around slowly. "...um, Wolf, sir?"

"It's Bigby Wolf from now on. Miss White insisted that I use a proper name," He sounded amused. "Don't think I ever caught your name, kid. I only recognized you by scent."

So I told him my name. And that was the beginning.


End file.
